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RHYMES TO BE TRADED FOR BREAD 

BEING NEW VERSES BY NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY, SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS, JUNE, 1912. 
PRINTED EXPRESSLY AS A SV INSTITUTE FOR MONEY. 

THIS BOOK IS TO BE USED IN EXCHANGE FOR THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE ON A TRAMP- 
JOURNEY FROM THE AUTHOR'S HOME TOWN, THROUGH THE WEST AND BACK, DURING 
WHICH HE WILL OBSERVE THE FOLLOWING RULES: (1) KEEP AWAY FROM THE CITIES. 
(2) KEEP AWAY FROM THE RAILROADS. (3) HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH MONEY. 
CARRY NO BAGGAGE. (4) ASK FOR DINNER ABOUT QUARTER AFTER ELEVEN. (5) ASK 
FOR SUPPER, LODGING AND BREAKFAST ABOUT QUARTER OF FIVE. (6) TRAVEL ALONE. 
(7) BE NEAT, TRUTHFUL, CIVIL AND ON THE SQUARE. (8) PREACH THE GOSPEL OF BEAUTY. 

IN ORDER TO CARRY OUT THE LAST RULE THERE WILL BE THREE EXCEPTIONS TO THE 
RULE AGAINST BAGGAGE. (1) THE AUTHOR WILL CARRY A BRIEF PRINTED STATEMENT, 
CALLED "THE GOSPEL OF BEAUTY." (2) HE WILL CARRY THIS BOOK OF RHYMES FOR 
DISTRIBUTION. (3) ALSO HE WILL CARRY A SMALL PORTFOLIO WITH PICTURES, ETC., 
CHOSEN TO GIVE AN OUTLINE OF HIS VIEW OF THE HISTORY OF ART, ESPECIALLY AS IT 
APPLIES TO AMERICA. 



INTRODUCTION 

UPON RETURNING TO THE COUNTRY 

ROAD. 

EVEN THE SHREWD AND BITTER, 
GNARLED BY THE OLD WORLD'S GREED, 
CHERISHED THE STRANGER SOFTLY 
SEEING HIS UTTER NEED. 
SHELTER AND PATIENT HEARING, 
THESE WERE THEIR GIFTS TO HIM, 
TO THE MINSTREL GRIMLY BEGGING 
AS THE SUNSET-FIRE GREW DIM. 
THE RICH SAID "YOU ARE WELCOME." 
YEA, EVEN THE RICH WERE GOOD. 
HOW STRANGE THAT IN THEIR FEASTING 
HIS SONGS W T ERE UNDERSTOOD.' 
THE DOORS OF THE POOR WERE OPEN, 
THE POOR WHO HAD WANDERED TOO, 
WHO HAD SLEPT WITH NE'ER A ROOF-TREE 
UNDER THE WIND AND DEW. 
THE MINDS OF THE POOR WERE OPEN, 
THERE DARK MISTRUST WAS DEAD. 
THEY LOVED HIS \VIZARD STORIES, 
THEY BOUGHT HIS RHYMES WITH BREAD. 
THOSE WERE HIS DAYS OF GLORY, 
OF FAITH IN HIS FELLOW-MEN. 
THEREFORE, TODAY THE SINGER . . 

TURNS BEGGAR ONCE AGAIN. 



HE BLEW ME TO A WINDLAND BUSHJ 
WITH SPEED AND JOY WE FLEW. 

THE GREAT BUSH BLOOMED WITH PARCH 
MENTS FINE, OF SONGS THAT FEED 
THE SOUL, 

ALL NEW, THAT OUR DEAR EARTH SHALL 
HEAR, WHEN POETS REACH THEIB 
GOAL. 

WHEN OUR GROWN CHILDREN, BREATHING 

FIRE, SHALL JUSTIFY ALL TIME, 
BY HYMNS OF LIVING SILVER, SONGS 

WITH SUNRISE IN THE RHYME. 
I WISH THAT I HAD LEARNED BY HEART 

SOME LYRICS READ THAT DAY, 
I KNEW NOT 'TWAS A GIANT HOUR. AND 

SPENT IT ALL IN PLAY. 
WINDLAND GLEAMS SO DEWY-WHITE, SO 

FULL OF CRYSTAL PEACE, 
AND EVERY LEAF A SILKEN HARP, WHOSE 

MURMURS WILL NOT CEASE. 
I GORGED THE HONEY FROM THE CUPS OF 

WILD-FLOWERS ALL ABOUT, 
LAUGHING WHEN THE WIZARD LAUGHED, 

AND PUT THE GNATS TO ROUT. 
I READ ONCE MORE, THEN SLEPT AWHILE, 

THEN WOKE ON EARTH AGAIN, 
I WISH THOSE SCROLLS WERE MINE THAT 

I MIGHT BRING THEM UNTO MEN! 



VERSES OF FANTASY 
AND DESIRE 

THE WIZARD WIND. 
THE WIZARD WIND'S A FRIEND OF MINE, 

MOST INTIMATE, IN TRUTH, 
HE WHISTLES SORROW HALF AWAY, HE 

GIVES ME GOLDEN YOUTH. 
AND FREE AS THAT SMALL BIRD THAT 

EATS THE WHEAT-EAR IN THE SHEAF 
I AM NO LONGER MAN, BUT CLOUD, OR 

TUMBLED MAPLE-LEAF. 
ONCE HE TRANSFOKMED ME TO A BEE, 

HUNGRY FOR HONEY-DEW, 



THE KING OF YELLOW BUTTER 
FLIES. 

(EARLY SPRING.) 
THE KING OF YELLOW BUTTERFLIES NOW 

ORDERS FORTH HIS MEN, 
ME SAYS, "THE TIME is ALMOST HERE 

WHEN TIOJLETS BLOOM AGAIN." 
ADOWN THE ROAD THE FICKLE ROUT GOES 

FLASHING PROUD AND BOLD, 
THEY SHIVER BY THE SHALLOW POOLS 

AND WHIMPER OF THE COLD. 
THEY DRINK AND DRINK. 'TIS A PRE 
TENCE. THEY LOVE TO POSE AND 
PREEN, 



EACH POOL IS BUT A LOOKING-GLASS 
WHERE THEIB SWEET WINGS ABE 

SEEN. 

THEY'RE GENTLEMEN ADVENTURERS, 

THEY'RE GIPSIES EVERY WHIT, 
THEY LIVE ON WHAT THEY STEAL. THEIR 

WINGS BY BRLABS ARE FRAYED A BIT. 
THEIR LOVES ARE LIGHT. THEY HAVE NO 

HOUSE. AND IF IT RAINS TODAY 
THEY'LL CLIMB INTO YOUR CATTLE-SHED, 

AND HIDE THEM IN THE HAY. 

THE GRAVE OF THE RIGHTEOUS 

KITTEN. 
HEBE LIES A KITTEN GOOD, WHO KEPT 

A KITTEN'S PROPER PLACE. 

HE STOLE NO PANTRY EATABLES, 

NOR SCRATCHED THE BABY'S FACE. 

HE LET THE ALLEY-CATS ALONE, 

HE HAD NO YOWLING VICE. 

HIS SHIRT WAS ALWAYS LAUNDRIED WELL, 

HE FREED THE HOUSE OF MICE. 

UNTIL HIS DEATH HE HAD NOT CAUSED 

HIS LITTLE MISTRESS TEARS, 

HE WORE HIS RIBBON PRETTILY, 

HE WASHED BEHIND HIS EARS. 

AN INDIAN SUMMER DAY ON THE 

PRAIRIE. 

(IN THE BEGINNING.) 
THE SUN IS A HUNTRESS YOUNG, 
THE SUN IS A RED, RED JOY, 
THE SUN IS AN INDIAN GIRL, 

OF THE TRIBE OF THE ILLINOIS. 

(MID-MORNING.) 

THE SUN IS A SMOULDERING FIRE, 
THAT CREEPS THROUGH THE HIGH GREY 

PLAIN 

AND LEAVES NOT A BUSH OF CLOUD 
TO BLOSSOM WITH FLOWERS OF RAIN. 

(NOON.) 

THE SUN IS A WOUNDED DEER, 
THAT TREADS PALE GRASS IX THE SKIES. 
SHAKING HIS GOLDEN HORNS, 
FLASHING HIS BALEFUL EYES. 

(SUNSET.) 

THE Sl'X IS AN EAGLE OLD, 
THERE IN "THE WINDLESS WEST 
ATOP OF THE SPIRIT-CLIFFS 
HE BUILDS HIM A CRIMSON NEST. 

WHY I FLED FROM DUTY. 
I HAVE LOST YOU, LITTLE MISS DUTY. 
I TOI.D YOU MY I.CST AND LOVE, 

LUST LIKE THE PULSE OF THE TIGER 

THE HUNGER OF HAWK FOR DOVE. 

I HAVE LOST YOU, LITTLE MISS DUTY, 

THOUMI I HROn.HT YOU MYSELF QUITE 

WHOLE, 

WHITE BODY AND BLACK DESIRE 

CONSCIENCE, AND BREATH, AND SOUL. 
"YOU ARE NAKED," SAID LITTLE MISS 

DUTY, 

"<,o HIDE IN Till-. ( AVES AND HILLS, 
FOR I MUST BE GILDING COBWEBS, 
I AM CHAINED IN THE COBWEB MILLS. 



MY SILK BUYS BREAD AND BUTTER 
AND PAYS MY DEBT ON THE FARM." 
SO I STOLE HER SHOE FOR REMEMBERANCE 
: AND FLED LEST I DO HER HARM. 

MACHINERY. 

OH, EGYPT QUEEN OF EGYPT 

WHEN I WAS KING OF BIRDS 

YOU CALLED ME FROM THE TREETOPS 

WITH MYSTIC COPTIC WORDS. 

YOU WHISTLED AND YOU WHISPERED, 

THEN MOCKED ME, FICKLE QUEEN. 

YOU SAID TO AIL MY SOUL TALK. 1 

"A BIRD IS A MACHINE." 

YOUR TRIBE WAS OLD IN SCIENCE-, 

YOU SAID TO ME "YOUR WINGS 

ABE RODS AND STRINGS AND HINGES ; 

THE PLACE IN YOU THAT SINGS. 

"IS A TINY WILLOW WHISTLE, 

QUITE WELL DEVISED, BUT STILL 

A SISTRUM MAKES MORE MUSIC: 
A FEATHER'S BUT A QUILL; 

"A CLAW IS BUT A NEEDLE: 

A CRAW, A MILL FOB CORN; 

YOUR HEART IS BUT A LITTLE PUMP, 

YOUR SOUL WAS NEVER BORN." 

BUT THEN, I SANG SO DESPERATELY .... 
I MADE FAIR EGYPT SIGH: 
"OH DOWNY SOUL IMMORTAL! 
OH BIRD THAT CANNOT DIE!" 

LOVE AND LAW. 

TRUE LOVE IS FOUNDED IN ROCKS OF RE 
MEMBER ANCE, 

IN STONES OF FORBEARANCE AND MORTAR 
OF PAIN. 

THE WORKMAN LAYS WEARILY GRANITE 
ON GRANITE, 

AND BLEEDS FOR HIS CASTLE 'MID SUN 
SHINE AND RAIN. 

LOVE IS NOT VELVET, NOT ALL OF IT VEL 
VET, 

NOT ALL OF IT BANNERS, NOT GOLD-LEAF 
ALONE. 

'TIS STERN AS THE AGES, AND OLD AS 
RELIGION, 

WITH PATTEN <-E ITS WATCHWORD AND 
I AW FOR ITS THRONE. 

THE FLIGHT OF MONA LISA. 
UEIXG THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE 
STEALING OF LEONARDO DA VINCl'S MAS- 
il.lMMElj: FKO.M THE GALLERY OF THE 
LOUVRE. 
ALWAYS KNTTIKONKD, AND EVER WISE AND 

STILL * * * 
KIVERS OF STARING. STRENUOUS FOLK 

\VE.\T I IV. 
ONLY I IIK WISE AND RIPE OF SOUL 

WOULD PAUSE, 
MARKING THE SHADOWED MAGIC OF YOUR 

EVE * * * 
NOW MOIJS UNDO VOUK NAME WITH 

CLACKING TONGUE. 
TOO DULL TO KNOW THE LADY THAT YOU 

ARE, 



IGNORANT OF THE RENAISSANCE SO SWEET 
OF WHICH YOU WERE THE CULMINATING 

STAR 
CROWDS, TO WHOM BEAUTY IS A HIDDEN 

BOOK 

THOUGH THEY GO SEEK IT TILL THEIR 

EYES ARE RED; 
MEX TO WHOM LEONARDO IS UNKNOWN 

OR BUT A DUSTY FAME, A LONG TIME 

DEAD: 

THESE SAY THAT YOU WERE COURTED BY 

A THIEF, 
NAY, RATHER,. AFTER HALF A THOUSAND 

YEARS, 
YOUR SMILE TOOK ON AN UNEXPECTED 

BLOOM, 
DESIRE AROSE THAT MOVED YOU NIGH TO 

TEARS. 
YOU FLASHED THAT PRINCESS-GLANCE 

THAT WAS COMMAND 

"CARRY ME WITH YOU YOUTH, i LEAVE 

THIS PLACE. 

I GROW LOVE-HUNGRY 'MID THE CEN 
TURIES, 

YOURS IS THE DESTINED, FLUSHED ADOR 
ING FACE!" 

AH, WHAT A BEAUTEOUS, WICKED THING 

IT WAS, 
THIS RECKLESS HOPE OF YOURS THAT 

STUNG HIM SO 

TILL, SCORNING YOUR FAIR PALACE AND 

YOUR GUARD, 
HE HALED YOU TO SOME LONELY PLACE 

AGLOW. 
WHY DID THIS SUDDEN THIRST OF YOURS 

AWAKE? 

CAN FEVER MUTINY IN VEINS SO OLD? 
WHAT, IN HIS GESTURE TAMED YOUR 

SPIRIT HIGH? 
WHAT, IN HIS FIGURE MADE YOUR 

GLANCES BOLD? 
TILL, DAY BY DAY YOUR LONG LOOK 

WITCHING HIM, 
HIS FLAGGING PULSES KINDLED TO SPICED 

FIRE, 
AND REACHED AT LAST THE RENAISSANCE 

SUPREME 
ATTAINED THE HEIGHT OF FLORENTINE 

DESIRE? 

i KNOW 'TWAS LEONARDO COME TO EARTH 

IN MASQUERADING FANCY DRESSED SO 
GAY. 

TRANSFORMED INTO A CARELESS ARTIST- 
BOY, 

A LOAFING STUDENT WASTING OUT THE 
DAY. 

AH, GROWN SO WEARY OF HIGH HEAVEN'S 
STREETS ! 

AND OF THE GLITTERING SAINTS TOO- 
RIGHTEOUS GRACE! 

WEARY OF GODLY SUNSHINE WITHOUT 
END! 

SEEKING AGAIN THE SHADOWS OF YOUR 
FACE! 

YOU DID NOT KNOW HIM FOR HIMSELF 

UNTIL 

YOU FLED, WITHIN HIS ARMS. ADOWN 
THE STAIR, 



THEN, (AND YOU SAW THE GLEAMING 

PAUIS STREKT), 

HE STOOD A GREY WISE MAN BESIDE YOU 
THERE. 

A WANDERING JEW, TO YOU HIS HEART'S 
OLD HOME, 

HE CAME, AND GAVE YOUR SOUL AT LAST 
SURPRISE, 

HE STRANGELY BROUGHT A CHILD-ASTON 
ISHMENT, 

A NOBLE MAIDEN-WONDER TO YOUR EYES. 

HE RAVISHED YOU AWAY TO HEAVEN 
WITH HIM, 

STILL YEARNING FOR YOUR BITTER KISS 
AGAIN 

YOUR BITTER, GENTLE, DOVE-LIKE WEARI 
NESS, 

AND FOLLIES GARNERED 'MID THE SONS 
OF MEN. 



AN APOLOGY FOR THE BOTTLE 
VOLCANIC. 

SOMETIMES I DIP MY PEN AND FIND THE 
BOTTLE FULL OF FIRE, 

THE SALAMANDERS FLYING FORTH I CAN 
NOT BUT ADMIRE. 

ITS ETNA, OR VESUVIUS, IF THOSE BIG 
THINGS WERE SMALL, 

AND THEN 'TIS BUT ITSELF AGAIN, AND 
DOES NOT SMOKE AT ALL. 

AND SO MY BLOOD GROWS COLD. I SAY, 

"THE BOTTLE HELD BUT INK, 
AND, IF YOU THOUGHT IT OTHERWISE, 

THE WORSER FOR YOUR THINK.." 
AND THEN, JUST AS I THROW MY SCRIB 
BLED PAPER ON THE FLOOR 
THE BOTTLE SAYS "FE, FI, FO, FUM," AND 

STEAMS AND SHOUTS SOME MORE. 
OH, SAD DECEIVING INK, AS BAD AS LIQUOR 
IN ITS WAY 

ALL DEMONS OF A BOTTLE SIZE HAVE 

PRANCED FROM YOU TODAY, 
AND SEIZED MY PEN FOR HOBBY-HORSE 

AS WITCHES RIDE A BROOM, 
AND LEFT A TRAIL OF BRIMSTONE WORDS 

AND BLOTS AND GOBS OF GLOOM. 
AND YET WHEN I AM EXTRA GOOD AND 

SAY MY PRAYERS AT NIGHT, 
AND MIND MY MA, AND DO THE CHORES, 

AND SPEAK TO FOLKS POLITE, 
MY BOTTLE SPREADS A RAINBOW-MIST, AND 

FROM THE VAPOR FINE 
TEX THOUSAND TROOPS FROM FAIRYLAND 

COME RIDING IN A LINE. 
I'VE SEEN THEM ON THEIR CHARGERS 

RACE AROUND MY STUDY CHAIR, 
THEY OPENED WIDE THE WINDOW AND 

RODE FORTH UPON THE AIR. 
THE ARMY WIDENED AS IT WENT, AND 

INTO MYRIADS GREW, 
OH, HOW THE LANCES SHIMMERED, HOW 

THE SILVERY TRUMPETS BLEW! 



THE MAGICAL VILLAGE 

THE PATIENT WITCH. 
A LADY CALLED THE PATIENT WITCH, 
LIVED NEAR US LONG AGO. 
l K SERVANTS GAVE HEB OFF AND ON 
A BIT OF COIN OR SO, 
TO TELL THEM WHAT THEIR DREAMS 

COULD MEAN, 

AND IF THEIR LOVES WERE TRUEj 
TO STUDY OUT THEIR PALMS AND SAY 
"A PALACE WAITS FOR YOU/' 
AND THEN SHE ALWAYS WAS POLITE, 
AND SAID, "HOW DO YOU FARE? 
I HOPE YOUR LITTLE GIRL IS WELL," 
WITH A MOST PLEASANT AIR. 
SHE MUMBLED MUCH, WE KNEW NOT 

WHAT 

EACH AFTERNOON WOULD WAIT 
BESIDE THE GUIDE-POST TO THE WEST 
FOR SOME EXALTED FATE. 
SHE LOOKED DOWN EVERY ROAD AS 

THOUGH 

A STATELY COACH WAS DUE, 
TO BEAR HER HOME TO SOMEWHERE 

ELSE, 

TO FOLKS SHE REALLY KNEW. 
"ONE EVENING," SAID A LITTLE BOY, 
THE ONLY ONE A NIGH, 
"SHE TOLD ME PRETTY STORIES, AND 
SHE KISSED MY CURLS GOODBY, 
AND TURNED INTO A SWAN AND SPREAD 
HER WHITE WINGS BIG AND WIDE. 
AND FLEW AND FLEW INTO THE SKY! 
AND I CAME HOME AND CRIED." 

EDEN IN WINTER. 

SUPPOSED TO BE CHANTED TO SOME RUDE 
INSTRUMENT AT A MODERN FIRE 
PLACE. 

CHANT WE THE STORY NOW 
THOUGH IN A HOUSE WE SLEEP. 
THOUGH BY A HEARTH OF COALS 
VIGIL TONIGHT WE KEEP. 
CHANT WE THE STORY NOW, 
OF THE VAGUE LOVE WE KNEW 
WHEN I FROM OUT THE SEA 
ROSE TO THE FEET OF YOU. 
BIRD FROM THE CLIFFS YOU CA1MK 
FLEW THROUGH THE SNOW TO M K. 
FACING THE ICY BLAST 
THERE BY THE ICY SEA. 
HOW DID I REACH YOUR FEET? 

WHY SHOULD I AT THE END 

HOLD OUT HALF FROZEN HANDS 
DUMBLY TO YOU MY FRIEND? 

NE'ER HAD i WOMAN SEEN, 
NE'ER HAD i SEEN A FLAME. 

THERE YOU PILED FAGOTS ON 

HEAT ROSE THE BLAST TO TAME. 

THERE BY THE CAVE-DOOR DARK 
COMFORTING ME YOU CRIED 
WAILED O'ER MY WOUNDED KNEE 
WEPT FOR MY ROCK-TORN SIDK. 
UP FROM THE SOUTH I TRAILED 
LEFT REGIONS FIERCE AND FAIR! 
LEFT ALL THE JUNGLE-TREES 
F.KIT THE RED TIGER'S LAIR. 



HREAM LEI), 1 SCARCE KNEW WHY, 
INTO YOUR NORTH I TROD 
NE'ER HAD 1 KNOWN THE SNOW. 
OR THE FROST-BLASTED SOD. 
OH HOW THE FLAKES CAME DOWN! 
OH HOW THE FIRE BURNED HIGH! 
.STRANGE THING TO SEE HE WAS 
THROUGH HIS DRY TWIGS WOULD FLY. 

CREEP THERE AWHILE AND SLEEP 

THEN WAKE AND BARK FOR FIGHT 
BITING IF I TOO NEAR, 
CAME TO HIS EYE SO BRIGHT. 
THEN WITH A WILL YOU FED 
WOOD TO HIS HUNGRY TONGUE. 

THEN HE DID LEAP AND SING 

DANCING THE CLOUDS AMONG. 
TURNING THE NIGHT TO NOON, 
STINGING MY EYES WITH LIGHT, 
MAKING THE SNOW RETREAT, 
MAKING THE CAVE-HOUSE BRIGHT. 
THERE WERE DRY FAGOTS PILED, 
NUTS AND DRY LEAVES AND ROOTS. 
STORES THERE OF FURS AND HIDES. 
SWEET-BARKS AND GRAINS AND FRUITS. 
THERE WRAPPED IN FUR WE LAY' 

HALF-BURNED, HALF-FROZEN STILL 
NE'ER WILL MY SOUL FORGET 
ALL THE NIGHT'S BITTER CHILL. 
WE HAD NOT LEARNED TO SPEAK 
I WAS TO YOU A STRANGE 
WOLFLING OR WOUNDED FAWN 
LOST FROM HIS FOREST-RANGE. 

THIRSTING FOR BLOODY MEAT 
OUT AT THE DAWN WE WENT, 
WEIGHED WITH OUR PREY AT EVE. 
HOME-CAME WE ALL FORESPENT. 
COMRADES AND HUNTERS TRIED 

ERE WE WERE MAID AND MAN 

NOT TILL THE SPRING AWOKE 
LAUGHTER AND SPEECH BEGAN. 
WHINING LIKE FOREST DOGS, 
RUSTLING LIKE BUDDING TREES, 
BUBBLING LIKE THAWING SPRINGS. 
HUMMING LIKE LITTLE BEES, 
CROONING LIKE MAYTIME TIDES, 
CHATTERING PARROT WORDS, 
CRYING THE PANTHER'S CRY, 
CHIRPING LIKE MATING BIRDS 
THUS, THUS, WE LEARNED TO SPEAK, 
WHO, 'MID THE SNOWS WERE DUMB, 
NOR DID WE LEARN TO KISS 
UNTIL THE SPRIN(i HAD COME. 



THE TOWER BUILDER. 
IN AN IMPERIAL HOUR 
WITH COUNTENANCE BENK;N. 
VENUS THE HOLY CAME 
AND LAID KIND HANDS IN MINE. 
HANDS I CANNOT FORGET. 
NEVER A WORD SHE SPOKE, 
SHE GAVE HER FINGER-TIPS 
AND MY DEAD SOUL AWOKE. 
I LEARNED WHY STRO.Nd \1K.N TOIL. 
AND WHY BRIGHT CITIES RISE. 
I HARDLY TOUCHED HER HAIR, 
AND SCARCELY SAW HER EYES. 



THOUGH SHE IS GONE I BUILD 

BY HER STRONG HANDS ALL DAY. 

I HAVE THE KEY TO LIFE 

A POWER WORDS CANNOT SAY. 

QUEEN MAB IN THE VILLAGE. 
OH, ONCE I LOVED A FAIRY, 
QUEEN MAB IT WAS. HER VOICE 
WAS LIKE A LITTLE FOUNTAIN 
THAT BIDS THE BIRDS REJOICE. 
HER FACE WAS WISE AND SOLEMN, 
HER HAIR WAS BROWN AND FINE. 
HER DRESS WAS PANSY VELVET, 
A BUTTERFLY DESIGN. 
TO SEE HER HOVER ROUND ME 
OR WALK THE HILLS OF AIR, 
AWAKENED LOVE'S DEEP PULSES 
AND BOYHOOD'S FIRST DESPAIR; 
A PASSION LIKE A SWORD-BLADE 
THAT PIERCED ME THROUGH AND 

THROUGH, 

HER FINGERS HEALED THE SORROW 
HER WHISPER WOULD RENEW. 
WE SIGHED AND REIGNED AND FEASTED 
WITHIN A HOLLOW TREE, 
WE VOWED OUR LOVE WAS BOUNDLESS 
ETERNAL AS THE SEA. 
SHE BANISHED FROM HER KINGDOM 
THE MORTAL BOY I GREW 
SO TALL AND CRUDE AND NOISY, 
I KILLED GRASSHOPPERS TOO. 
I THREW BIG ROCKS AT PIGEONS, 
I PLUCKED AND TORE APART 
THE WEEPING, WAILING DAISIES, 
AND BROKE MY LADY'S HEART. 
AT LENGTH I GREW TO MANHOOD, 
I SCARCELY COULD BELIEVE, 
I EVER LOVED THE LADY, 
OB CAUSED HER COURT TO GRIEVE, 
UNTIL A DREAM CAME TO ME 

ONE BLEAK FIRST NIGHT OF SPRING 

'ERE TIDES OF APPLE BLOSSOMS 

ROLLED IN O'ER EVERYTHING, 

WHILE RAIN AND SLEET AND SN'OWBANKS 

WERE STILL A VEXING MEN, 

'ERE ROBIN AND HIS COMRADES 

WERE NESTING ONCE AGAIN. 

i SAW MAB'S BOOK OF JUDGMENT 

ITS CLASPS WERE IRON AND STONE, 
ITS LEAVES WERE MAMMOTH IVORY, 

ITS BOARDS WERE MAMMOTH BONE, 

HID IN HER SEASIDE MOUNTAINS, 

FORGOTTEN OR UNKEPT, 

BENEATH ITS MIGHTY COVERS 

HER WRATH AGAINST ME SLEPT. 

AND DEEPLY I REPENTED 

OF BRASH AND BOYISH CRIME, 

OF MURDER OF THINGS LOVELY 

NOW AND IN OLDEN TIME. 

I CURSED MY VAIN AMBITION, 

MY WOULD-BE WORLDLY DAYS, 

AND CRAVED THE PATHS OF WONDER, 

OF DEWY DAWNS AND FAYS. 

I CRIED, "OUR LOVE WAS BOUNDLESS 

ETERNAL AS THE SEA, 

OH, QUEEN, REVERSE THE SENTENCE, 

COME BACK AND MASTER ME!" 

THE ROOK WAS BY THE CLIFF-SIDE 



UPON ITS EDGE UPRIGHT. 

I LAID ME BY IT SOFTLY, 

AND WEPT THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT. 

AND THERE AT DAWN I SAW IT, 

NO BOOK NOW BUT A DOOR, 

UPON ITS PANELS WRITTEN 

"JUDGMENT is NO MORE." 

THE BOLT FLEW BACK WITH THUNDER, 

I SAW WITHIN THAT PLACE 

A MERMAID WRAPPED IN SEAWEED 

WITH MAB'S IMMORTAL FACE. 

YET GROWN NOW TO A WOMAN, 

A WOMAN TO THE KNEE. 

SHE CRIED, SHE CLASPED ME FONDLY, 

WE SOON WERE IN THE SEA. 

AH, SHE WAS WISE AND SUBTF.I . 

AND GAY AND STRONG AND SLKKK. 

WE CHAINED THE WICKED SWORD-FISH, 

WE PLAYED AT HIDE AND SEEK. 

WE FLOATED ON THE WATER, 

WE HEARD THE DAWN-WIND SING. 

I MADE FROM OCEAN-WONDERS 

HER BRIDAL WREATH AND RING. 

ALL MORTAL GIRLS WERE SHADOWS, 

ALL EARTH-LIFE BUT A MIST, 

WHEN DEEP BENEATH THE MAELSTROM, 

THE MERMAID'S HEART i KISSED. 

I WOKE BESIDE THE CHURCH-DOOR 

OF OUR SMALL INLAND TOWN, 

BOWING TO A MAIDEN 

IN A PANSY-VELVET GOWN, 

WHO HAD NOT HEARD OF FAIRIES, 

YET SEEMED OF LOVE TO DREAM. 

WE PLANNED AN EARTHLY COTTAGE 

BESIDE AN EARTHLY STREAM. 

OUR WEDDING LONG IS OVER, 

WITH TOIL THE YEARS FILL UP, 

YET IN THE EVENING SILENCE, 

WE DRINK A DEEP-SEA CUP. 

NOTHING THE FAY REMEMBERS, 

YET WHEN SHE TURNS TO ME, 

WE MEET BENEATH THE WHIRLPOOL, 

WE SWIM THE GOLDEN SEA. 

THE MASTER OF THE DANCE. 
A MASTER DEEP-EYED 
ERE HIS MANHOOD WAS RIPE, 
HE SANG LIKE A THRUSH, 
HE COULD PLAY ANY PIPE. 
SO DULL IN THE SCHOOL 
THAT HE SCARCELY COULD SPELL, 
HE READ BUT A BIT, 
AND HE FIGURED NOT WELL. 
A BARE-FOOTED FOOL, 
SHOD ONLY WITH GRACEJ 
LONG HAIR STREAMING DOWN 
ROUND A WIND-HARDENED FACE; 
HE SMILED LIKE A GIRL, 
OR LIKE CLEAR WINTER SKIES, 
A VIRGINAL LIGHT 
MAKING STARS OF HIS EYES. 
IN SWIFTNESS AND POISE, 
A PROUD CHILD OF THE DEER, 
A WHITE FAWN HE WAS. 
YET A FAWN WITHOUT FEAR. 
NO YOUTH THOUGHT HIM VAIN, 
OR MADE MOCK OF HIS HAIR, 
OR LAUGHED WHEN HIS WAYS 



WERE MOST CURIOUSLY FAIR. 

A MASTIFF AT FIGHT 

HE COULD STRIKE TO THE EARTH 

THE ENVIOUS ONE 

WHO WOULD CHALLENGE HIS WORTH. 

HOWEVER WE BOWED 

TO THE SCHOOLMASTER MILD, 

OUR SPIRITS WENT OUT 

TO THE FAWN-FOOTED CHILD. 

HIS BECKONING LED 

OUR TROOP INTO THE BRUSH. 

WE FOUND NOTHING THERE 

BUT A WIND AND A HUSH. 

HE SAT BY A STONE 

AND HE LOOKED ON THE GROUND, 

AS JF IN THE WEEDS 

THERE WAS SOMETHING PROFOUND. 

HIS PIPE SEEMED TO NEIGH, 

THEN TO BLEAT LIKE A SHEEP, 

THEN SOUND LIKE A STREAM 

OR A WATERFALL DEEP. 

IT WHISPERED STRANGE TALES, 

HUMAN WORDS IT SPOKE NOT. 

TOLD FAIR THINGS TO COME, 

AND OUR MARVELOUS LOT 

IF NOW WITH. FAWN-STEPS 

UNSHOD WE ADVANCED 

TO THE MIDST OF THE GROVE 

AND IN REVERENCE DANCED. 

WE OBEYED AS HE PIPED 

SOFT GRASS TO YOUNG FEET, 

WAS A MEDICINE MIGHTY, 

A REMEDY MEET. 

OUR THIN BLOOD AWOKE, 

IT GREW DIZZY AND WILD, 

THOUGH SCARCELY A WORD 

MOVED THE LIPS OF A CHILD. 

OUB DANCE GAVE ALLEGIANCE, 

IT SET US APART, 

WE TRIPPED A STRANGE MEASURE, 

UPLIFTED OF HEART. 



II 



WE THOUGHT TO BE PROUD 

OF OUR FAWN EVERYWHERE. 

WE COULD HARDLY SEE HOW 

SIMPLE BOOKS WERE A CARE. 

NO RULE OF THE SCHOOL 

THIS STRANGE STUDENT COULD TAME. 

HE WAS BANISHED ONE DAY, 

WHILE WE QUIVERED WITH SHAME. 

HE PIPED BACK OUR LOVE 

ON A MOON-SILVERED NIGHT, 

ENTICED US ONCE MORE 

TO THE PLACE OF DELIGHT. 

A GREETING H6 SANG 

AND IT MADE OUR BLOOD BEAT, 

IT TRAMPED UPON CUSTOM 

AND MOCKED AT DEFEAT. 

HE BUILDED A FIRE 

AND 'WE TRIPPED IN A KING, 

THE EMBERS OUR BOOKS 

AND THE FAWN OUR GOOD KING. 

AND NOW WE APPROACHED 

ALL THE MYSTERIES RARE 

THAT SHADOWED HIS EYELIDS 

AND BLEW THROUGH HIS HAIR. 

THAT SPELL NOW WAS PEACE 



THE DEEP STRENGTH OF THE TREES, 

THE CHILDREN OF NATURE 

WK CLAMBERED HER KNEES, 

OUR BREATH AND OUR MOODS 

WERE IN TUNE WITH HER OWN, 

TREMENDOUS HER PRESENCE 

ETERNAL HER THRONE. 

THE OSTRACISED CHILD 

OUR WHITE FOREHEADS KISSED, 

OUR BODIES AND SOULS 

BECAME LIGHTER THAN MIST. 

SWEET DRESSES LIKE SNOW 

OUR SMALL LADY-LOVES WORE, 

LIKE MOONLIGHT THE THOUGHTS 

THAT OUR BOSOMS UPBORE, 

LIKE A LILY THE TOUCH 

OF EACH COLD LITTLE HAND, 

THE LOVES OF THE STARS 

WE COULD NOW UNDERSTAND. 

O QUIVERING AIR! 

O THE CRYSTALLINE NIGHT! 

O PAUSES OF AWE 

AND THE FACES SWAN-WHITE! 
O FERNS IN THE DUSK! 
FOREST-SHRINED HOUR! 

O EARTH THAT SENT UP 

THE VAST THRILL AND THE POWEH. 

TO LIFT US LIKE LEAVES 

A DELIRIOUS WHIRL 

THE MASTERFUL BOY 

AND THE DELICATE GIRL! 

WHAT CHILD THAT STRANGE NIGHT-TIME 

CAN EVER FORGET? 

HIS FEALTY DUE 

AND HIS -INFINITE DEBT 

TO THE FOLLY DIVINE,' 

TO THE EXQUISITE RULE 

OF THE PERILOUS MASTER 

THE FAWN-FOOTED FOOL? 
Ill 

NOW SOLDIERS WE SEEM, 

AND NIGHT BRINGS A NEW THING 

A TERRIBLE IRE 

AS OF THUNDER AWING. 

A WARRIOR POWER, 

THAT OLD CHIVALRY STIRRED, 

WHEN KNIGHTS TOOK UP ARMS. 

AS THE MAIDENS GAVE WORD. 

THE END OF OUR WAR, 

WILL BE WHITE-BANNERED DAYS, 

WHEN THE TOWN LIKE A GREAT 

BUDDING ROSE SHALL UPRAISE! 

NEAR, NEARER, THAT AVAR, 

AND THAT ECSTACY COMES, 

WE HEAR THE TREES BEATING 



INVISIBLE DRUMS. 

THE FIELDS OF THE NIGHT 

ARE STARLIGHTED ABOVE, 

OUR GIRLS ARE WHITE TORCHES 

OF CONQUEST AND LOVE. 

NO NERVE WITHOUT WILL, 

AND NO BREAST WITHOUT BREATH, 

WE WHIRL WITH THE PLANETS 

THAT NEVER KNOW DEATH! 

THE DANDELION. 

DANDELION, RICH AND HAUGHTY, 
KING OF VILLAGE FLOWERS ! 
EACH DAY IS CORONATION TIME, 
YOU HAVE NO HUMBLE HOURS. 

1 LIKE TO SEE YOU BRING A TROOP 
TO BEAT THE BLUE-GRASS SPEARS, 

TO SCORN THE LAWN-MOWER THAT 
WOULD BE 

LIKE FATE'S TRIUMPHANT SHEARS. 
YOUR YELLOW HEADS ARE CUT AWAY, 
IT SEEMS YOUR REIGN IS O'ER. 
BY NOON YOU RAISE A SEA OF STARS 
MORE GOLDEN THAN BEFORE. 

THE LAMP IN THE WINDOW. 
I LIGHT MY HOMELY LAMP AGAIN TO 
NIGHT, 
AND SAY" PERHAPS A WANDERING ONE 

GOES BY, 
HURRIED PAST DOOR-WAYS WHERE THE 

WATCH-DOGS GROWL 
THE HEARTHS THE STRANGER DARES NOT 

COME ANIGH. 

WE SIT IN STOLID CIRCLE AT THE BOARD, 
AND NEVER A SON OR DAUGHTER TELLS A 

TALE. 
THE FAITHFUL MOTHER FINDS NO CHEER 

IN TOIL, 

OUR ROSY INFANT'S CROW CAN NAUGHT 

AVAIL. 
THE COUNTRYSIDE GROWS DULL WITH 

HOMES UNSTIRRED, 
THE PREACHER PRATES IN LONG-FAMILIAR 

WORDS. 
THE NEIGHBORS COME, WITH WOODEN 

EYES, TO TALK 
OF WEEDS AND FEXCES, BARNS AND 

FLOCKS AND HERDS. 
PERHAPS TONIGHT WITHIN THE SOAKING 

RAIN 
SOME STORM-BLOWN BOY MOVES ON THAT 

WE SHOULD KEEP, 

TO BRING US LAUGHTER ROUND OUR ROAR 
ING STOVE, 
TO SHOW US WHY WE SOW AND WHY WE 

REAP. 
TONIGHT, PERCHANCE, A CONQUERING ONE 

RETURNS, 
MASTER OF WEARINESS AND FATE AND 

PAIN 
WITHIN HIS POCKET NOTE-BOOKS OF HIS 

LORE, 
WITHIN HIS SOUL GREAT PASSIONS HELD 

IN REIN. 
PERHAPS, TONIGHT SOME WILD MAN 

PASSES BY, 



BEARING WISE PARCHMENTS FROM OLD 

CITIES GRIM, 
OR, IT MAY BE, A BETTER LAMP THAN 

MINE 

MORE LIKE ALADDIN'S, NOT, LIKE THIS 

ONE, DIM. 
ALL IT WILL NEED, THE OIL AND WICK 

AND FLAME, 
AND SHELTERED ROOM TO KEEP THE WIND 

AWAY 
I (AN PROVIDE. AH, IF A LAMP HE 

BRINGS, 
IT SHALL BE TRIMMED AND BURNISHED 

EVERY DAY! 



THE HEARTH ETERNAL. 

THERE DWELT A WIDOW LEANED AND DE 
VOUT, 

BEHIND OUR HAMLET ON THE EASTERN 
HILL. 

THREE SONS SHE HAD, WHO WENT TO 
FIND THE WORLD, 

THEY PROMISED TO RETURN, BUT WAND 
ERED STILL. 

THE CITIES USED THEM WELL, THEY WON 
THEIR WAY, 

RICH GIFTS THEY SENT, TO STILL THEIR 

MOTHER'S SIGHS, 
WORN OUT WITH HONORS, AND APART 

FROM HER, 

T1IKY DIED AS MANY A SELF-MADE EXILE 
DIES. 

THE MOTHER HAD A HEARTH THAT WOULD 
NOT QUENCH, 

THE DEATHLESS EMBERS FOUGHT THE 
CREEPING GLOOM, 

SHE SAID TO US WHO CAM WITH 
WONDERING EYES 

"THIS IS A MAGIC FIRE, A MAGIC ROOM." 

THE PINE BURNED OUT, BUT STILL THE 
COALS GLOWED ON, 

HER GRAVE GREW OLD BENEATH THE PEAR- 
TREE SHADE, 

AND YET HER CRUMBLING HOME EN 
SHRINED THE LIGHT, 

THE NEIGHBORS PEERING IN WERE HALF- 
AFRAID. 

THEN STURDY BEGGARS, NEEDING FAGOTS 
CAME, 

ONE AT A TIME, AND STOLE THE WALLS, 
AND FLOOR. 

THEY LEFT A NAKED STONE, BUT HOW IT 
BLAZED ! 

AND IN THE THUNDERSTORM IT FLARED 
THE MORE. 

AND NOW IT WAS THAT MEN WERE HEARD 
TO SAY, 

"THIS LIGHT SHOULD BE BELOVED BY ALL 
THE TOWN." 

AT LAST THEY MADE THE SLOPE A PLACE 
OF PRAYER, 

WHERE MARVELOUS THOUGHTS FROM GOD 
CAME SWEEPING DOWN. 

THEY LEFT THEIR CHURCHES CRUMBLING 
IN THE SUN, 

THEY MET ON THAT SOFT HILL. ONE 
BROTHERHOOD; 



ONE STRENGTH AXD VALOR ONLY, ONE DE 
LIGHT, 

ONE LAUGHING, BROODING GENIUS, GREAT 
AND GOOD. 

NOW MANY GKEY-HAIRE1) PRODIGALS 
COME HOME, 

THE PLACE OUT-FLAMES THE CITIES OF 
THE LAND, 

AND TWICE-BORN BRAHMANS REACH US 
FROM ATAR, 

WITH SUBTLE EYES PREPARED TO UNDER 
STAND. 

HIGHER AND HIGHER BURNS THE EASTERN 



SHOWING THE ROADS THAT MARCH FROM 

EVERYPLACE, 
A STEADY BEACON O'ER THE WEARY 

LEAGUES, 

AT DEAD OF NIGHT IT LIGHTS THE TRAV 
ELLER'S FACE! 
THUS HAS THE WIDOW CONQUERED HALF 

THE EARTH, 
SHE WHO INCREASED IN FAITH, THOUGH 

ALL ALONE, 
WHE KEPT HER EMPTY HOUSE A MAGIC 

PLACE, 
HAS MADE THE TOWN A HOLY ANGEL'S 

THRONE. 



THE BUSH OF BURNING SPICE. 

FROM DUST CELESTIAL THAT A CLOUD LET 
FALL, 

A BUSH CAME UP, FULL FORTY YEARS UN 
SEEN, 

THAT SCATTERED SMOKE AND EVER-BURN 
ING SPICE 

ACROSS A FIELD OF THORNS AND BURDOCKS 
MEAN. 

AND THEN A CRIPPLED CHILD ON A SWEET 
TIME, 

OF HOLIDAY BEHELD IT DECK THE MORN. 

HIS FRIEND, THE PASTOR, SAW ONE 
BRANCH, AND SANG. 

THE VILLAGE LAUGHED THE FLIGHTY PAIR 
TO SCORN. 

LATER THE TWO GROWN OLD AND STAID 
DENIED, 

THE SOLITARY INSIGHT OF THEIR YOUTH, 

AND MOCKED THEIR CHILDREN, WHO WITH 
LAUGHTER SANG, 

"OUR EYES BEHOLD THE DEATHLESS BUSH 
OF TRUTH." 

"WHY DANCE, PRAY TELL," THE CRIPPLE 

ASKED. "AND CHANT 
ABOUND A CINDER IN AN EMPTY LOT?" 
"NO I:URXIXG HUSH," THE PASTOR SAID, 

"HAS BLOOMED 
SINCE MOSES' DAY. NEW MIRACLES 

COME NOT." 

AND YET THOSE KK.\GII.E ( HII.DUE.V GREW 
IN STRENGTH, 

RADIANT AND KOYAL AS THE YEARS IN 
CREASED. 

AT LAST THEY BROUGHT THEIR REVERENT 
LOVERS THERE 

TO BREATHE THE SMOKE AS THOUGH IT 
WERE A FEAST. 



FROM EVERY BRANCH FLEW OUT A BAIN- 
BOW BIRD, 

A DARLING SONGSTER WITH HIS PLUMES 
AFLAME, 

AND EVERY BIRD FLEW ROUND AND KOI M> 
A CHILD, 

AND SANG OF GOD, AND CALLED THE CHILD 
BY NAME. 

THESE SWEETHEART'S NE'ER WERE FALSE. 

EACH WOMAN WORE 
WITHIN HER !.()( KET SAKE, A FEATHER 

BLUE, 
THAT DROPPED TO HER FROM OUT THOSE 

WHIRRING PLUMES. 

A TALISMAN THAT KEPT HER LOVER TRUE. 
AND YET IN AFTER TIME THOSE DAYS 

GREW DIM, 

AND LEST THEY BE FOREVER LEFT BEHIND 
THEY WROTE THEM IN A BOOK IN NOBLE 

WORDS, 
SWEET HYMNS ABOUT A BUSH THEY 

COULD NOT FIND! 



THE WOMAN CALLED "BEAUTY" AND 
HER SEVEN DRAGONS. 

A POEM FOR THOSE WHO DESIRE AN 
ESTHETIC UTOPIA. 

SHE BUILT TO THE HEIGHT OF HE 

BREAST, 

AN EARTH-WORK OF THISTLES AND SOD. 
SHE LAVED HER SOFT ARMS IN THE 

SPRING, 

SHE SCATTERED THE FIRE WITH A BOD. 
THE ROSE-PETAL CHILD BY HER SIDE, 
CRIED OUT WITH A COUNTENANCE WHITE, 
THE MOUND THEY HAD BUILDED AWOKE, 
WITH EYES THAT WERE BLINKING AND 

BRIGHT. 

THE SEVEN STRANGE DRAGONS OF ART, 
CAME FORTH LIKE GOLD PARCHMENTS UN 
ROLLED, 

AND FAWNED ON THE SIBYL'S DOVE-HAND, 
SUBMISSIVE AS SHEEP FROM THE FOL1>. 
YET SHIMMERING OPALS OF FIRE, 

YET TITAN CHAMELEON KINGS, 

ALL HISSING IMPATIENTLY THERE, 
UNSHEATHING THEIR TUSKS AND THEIR 

STINGS. 
SHE LAUGHED WHILE THEY FOAMED O'El 

THE FIELD, 

AND BLASTED THE HEDGES WITH HEAT, 
AND POUNDED THE BOULDERS TO DUST, 
AND ATE THE RED FAGOTS LIKE MEAT. 

II 

GO FORTH. TEAR THIS IRON AGE DOWN, 
"MY SONS," THUS THE WISE WOMAN 

SPOK I . 

"AND SET EVERY FANTASY FREE, 
AND EVERY CRUSHED WORKER UNYOKE. 

ESTABLISH THE SAN DAL WOOD AGE, 
ESTABLISH THE WHITE AGE OF ART, 
WHEN EARTH WILL STILL SIN AS OF OLD, 
BUT SIN WITH A LOFTIER HKAUT. 
\\Hi:\ (ATIIIS AM) BRAGGARTS WILL 

SLAY, 
BUT SLAY WITH A LOFTIER LUST, 



WHEN LAUGHTER'S BRIGHT ROAD WILL BE 

CLEAN, 

AND TRAGEDY'S PATH MORE AUGUST. 
WHEN YOUTH WILL CLIMB RECKLESSLY 

STILL, 

BUT CLIMB DRAGON-GREAT IN ITS PRIDE, 
AND FULL-BLOODED, FURIOUS HOSTS, 
WILL FLAUNT MY WHITE BANNER AND 

RIDi 

TO FIGHT AGAINST BALLOTS WITH TRUTH, 
AGAINST MOBS, WITH THE CHISEL AND 

PEN; 

THE PRIZE OF MY SOLDIERS TO BE 
FAIE CONTINENTS FITTED FOR MEN." 

Ill 

THE DRAGONS GAVE HEED TO THAT WORD, 
LIKE FIELD-FLOWERS THEY BOWED TO HER 

BREATH, 
WHO 3IADE THEM AND ORDERED THEM 

FORTH, 

WITH POWERS OF CREATION AND DEATH. 
THE CHILD SMOOTHED THEIR LEONINE 

MANES. 

FROM WIZARDRY HID IN THAT HAND, 
THEY GREW AS THE THUNDER-CLOUDS 

GROW, 

ENCOMPASSING WATER AND LAND. 
AND OH, HOW THEIR SERPENTINE SCALES 
FLASHED, RATTLED AND CRASHED IN THE 

AIR! 
THEY CLIMBED WITH ALL-CONQUERING 

COILS, 

GOD'S CRYSTAL, IMPERIAL STAIR. 
THEY ROARED THROUGH THE PATHWAYS 

OF DAY, 
SKY SWEEPING THEIR FOAM-FURROWS 

FLEW, 

THE SUN WAS AN ISLAND BESIEGED, 
THEIR PENNONS TALL WAVES OF THE 

BLUE. 

BEHEMOTHS THEY WERE OF THAT TIDE, 
OVERHEAD THAT MEN CALL THE HIGH 

NOON, 

THEIR CRIES IN BLOOD-STIRRING ACCORD, 
IKE TRUMPETS OF DOOMSDAY IN TUNE! 

AND NOW THEY WERE GONE LIKE THE 

WIND, 

AND CLOUDLESS AND SILENT, THE HOUR, 
THE SIBYL WENT BACK TO THE TOWN, 
AND HER SONS HURRIED FORTH IN HEB 

POWER. 

THE SOUL OF A BUTTERFLY. 
I STOOD ON THE WALL WITHOUT A DOOR, 
WHERE THE HEAVEX OF HEAVENS BEGAN, 
ON THE SHOHE OF THE DRIED-UP DEEP OF 

TIME, 

AND DEATH AND HELL AND MAN. 
BEHIND ME ROSE JERUSALEM, 
WITH A HUNDRED WALLS ON HIGH, 
TO THE ZENITH AND THE UPPER SOUTH, 
TO THE HILLS ABOVE THE SKY. 
I COULD NOT FACE THAT ROYAL TOWN, 
WITH ITS SIDES OF SOARING LIGHT J 
I STOOD ON THE LOWEST OUTER WALL 
AND LOOKED TO THE NORTHERN NIGHT. 
I CREPT TO THE EDGE OF THE ADAMANT, 



AND PEERED DOWN THE AWFUL STEEP, 
AND THE ANCIENT EARTH WAS A WILTING 

FLOWER, 

ON THE HEAVEN-LIT FIELDS OF THE DEEP. 
[ KNEW OLD WORMS CONSUMED HEB FACE, 
I KNEW ALL ELSE WAS FAIR, 
I KNEW SHE WAS THE BLACKEST PLACE 
WITHIN THE DEEPER AIR. 

AT LAST A CLOUD FROM THE RIVER DEATH, 
ROSE ROUND THAT TOMB OF MEN, 
BUT A VOICE WITHIN ME CRIED TO ME, 
''THE EARTH WILL LIVE AGAIN." 

AND THE CLOUD OUTSPREAD AND HID 

THE VOID, 

AND FOUND NOT ANY REST, 
TILL THE BOWL OF FATE WAS UI.I.KI' 

WITH MIST, 

TO THE LEVEL OF MY BREAST. 
AND NOW ON THE NORTH HORIZON'S RIM 
THE DEAD EARTH FLOATED, GRAY AND DIM. 
IT SEEMED TO ALWAYS FLOAT TO ME, 
AND THERE I WATCHED IT ENDLESSLY. 
I SAW THAT DEAD EARTH BUD AND BLOOM, 
AND FLASH WITH GOLD AND RED! 
AND NOW IT LOOKED ME IN THE FACE, 
A BUTTERFLY OF WONDROUS GRACE, 
THE SOUL OF A GIANT BUTTERFLY 
ARISEN FROM THE DEAD! 



RELIGIOUS VERSES 

HERE'S TO THE SPIRIT OF FIRE. 

HERE'S TO THE SPIRIT OF FIRE, WHEREVER 

THE FLAME IS UNFURLED, 
IN THE SUN, IT MAY BE, AS A TORCH, TO 

LEAD ON AND ENLIGHTEN THE WORLD", 
THAT MELTED THE GLACIAL STREAMS, IX 

THE DAY THAT NO MEMORIES REACH, 
THAT SHIMMERED IN AMBER AND SHELL 

AND WEED ON THE EARLIEST BEACH; 
THE GENIUS OF LOVE AND OF LIFE, THE 

POWER THAT WILL EVER ABOUND, 
THAT WAITS IN THE BONES OF THE DEAD, 

WHO SLEEP TILL THE JUDGMENT 

SHALL SOUND. 
HERE'S TO THE SPIRIT OF FIRE, WHEN 

CLOTHED IN SWIFT MUSIC IT COMES, 
THE GLOW OF THE HARVESTING SONGS, THE 

VOICE OF THE NATIONAL DRUMS; 
THE WHIMSICAL, VARIOUS FIRE, IX THE 

RHYMES AND IDEAS OF MEN, 
BURIED IN BOOKS FOR AN AGE, EXPLODING 

AND WRITHING AGAIN, 
AND BLOWN A RED WIND ROUND THE 

WORLD, CONSUMING THE LIES IN ITS 
MIRTH, 

THEN LOCKED IN DARK VOLUMES FOR 
LONG, AND BURIED LIKE COAL IN THE 
EARTH. 

HERE'S TO THE COMFORTING FIRE IN THE 

JOYS OF THE BLIND AND THE MEEK, 
IN THE CUSTOMS OF LETTERLESS LANDS, 

IN THE THOUGHTS OF THE STUPID" 

AND WEAK. 
IN THE WEARIEST LEGENDS THEY TELL, IN 

THEIR CRUELEST COLDEST BELIEF, 



IN THE PROVERBS OF COUNTER OR TILL, IN 
THE ARTS OF THK PRIEST OR THE 
THIEF. 

HERE'S TO THE SPIRIT OF FIRE, THAT 
NEVER THE OCEAN CAN DROWN, 

THAT GLOWS IN THE PHOSPHORENT WAVE, 
AND GLEAMS IN THE SEA-ROSES 

CROWN ; 

THAT SLEEPS IN THE SUNBEAM AND MIST, 
THAT CREEPS AS THE WISE CAN BUT 
KNOW, 

A WONDER, AX INCENSE, A WHIM, A PER 
FUME, A FEAR AND A GLOW, 

ENSNARING THE STARS WITH A SPELL, 
AND HOLDING THE EARTH IN A XET, 

YEA, FILLING THE NATIONS WITH PRAYER, 
WHEREVER MAN'S PATHWAY IS SET. 

LOOK YOU, I'LL GO PRAY. 

LOOK YOU, I'LL GO PRAY, 
MY SHAME IS CRYING, 
MY SOUL IS GREY AXD FAINT, 
MY FAITH IS DYING. 

LOOK YOU, I'LL GO PRAY 

"SWEET MARY, MAKE ME CLEAN, 
THOU RAINSTORM OF THE SOUL, 
THOU WINE FROM WORLD'S UNSEEN." 

THE MISSIONARY MISGIVING. 
(WILL THE WORLD BE BUT NOMINALLY 

-.; <i -.-CHRISTIAN ? ) 
I SEE ANOTHER LUTHER 
BRING WRATH TO INDIA'S EYES. 
I SEE AX INQUISITION 
BY CHINA'S CHURCHES RISE. 
I SEE ANOTHER CROMWELL 
SET FIRE TO GRIM JAPAN, 
LONG IS THE ROAD AXD DREADFUL, 
WHEREBY CHRIST CONQUERS' .MAX. 
OR, IF OUR CREEDS SHALL CRUMBLE? 
WHAT IF THE AGES SEE, 
A JESUS LIKE TO BUDMHA, 
UNDER THE BOHDl TREE? 
A CHRIST TOO LIKE CONFUCIUS, 
WITH SILKEN ROBE AXD FAX? 
YET ARE THE YEARS TRIUMPHANT 
IF. CHRIST SHALL CONQUER MAN. 
FOR CHRIST HAS COME IX GLORY, 
WHEX MEX ARE BROTHERS HERE, 
WHEN SWORDS ARE TURNED TO PLOUGH 
SHARES, 

AND PEACE HAS VANQUISHED FEAR. 
WHATEVER TOMB ENFOLDS HIM, 
HOWEVER STRANGE HIS PLAN, 
THE EARTH SHALL BE HIS THRONE-ROOM, 
OUR CHRIST SHALL CONQUER MAN! 

FOREIGN MISSIONS IN BATTLE 

ARRAY. 

AN ENDLESS LINE OF SPLENDOR, 
THESE TROOPS WITH HEAVEN FOR HOME, 
WITH CREEDS THEY CO FROM SCOTLAND, 
WITH INCENSE GO FROM ROME. 
THESE, IN THE NAME OF JESUS, 
AGAINST THE DARK f;ODS STAND, 
THEY GIRD THE EARTH WITH VALOR, 
THEY HEED THEIR KING'S COMMAND. 



ONWARD THE LINE ADVANrFS, 

SHAKING THE HILLS WITH POWKR. 

SLAYING THE HIDDEN DEMONS, 

THE LIONS THAT DEVOUR. 

NO BLOODSHED IN THE WRESTLING. 

BUT SOULS NEW-BORN ARISE 

THE NATIONS GROWING KINDER, 

THE CHILD-HEARTS GROWING WISE. 

WHAT IS THE FINAL ENDING? 

THE ISSUE, CAN WE KNOW? 

WILL CHRIST OUTLIVE MOHAMMED? 

WILL KALI'S ALTAR GO? 

THIS IS OUR FAITH TREMENDOUS. 

OUR WILD HOPE, WHO SHALL SCORN. 

THAT IN THE NAME OF JESUS 

THE WORLD SHALL BE REBORN! 

GALAHAD, KNIGHT WHO PERISHED. 
A POEM DEDICATED TO ALL CRUSADERS 
AGAINST THE INTERNATIONAL AND 
INTERSTATE TRAFFIC IN- 
YOUNG GIRLS. 
GALAHAD * * * SOLDIER THAT PER 



ISHED 



* * * 



ACES AGO, 



OUR HEARTS ARE BREAKING WITH SHAME, 

OUR TEARS OVERFLOW. 
GALAHAD * * * 'KNIGHT WHO PER 
IS 11 1 I) * * * AWAKEN AGAIN, 
TEACH US' TO FIGHT FOR IMMACULATE 

WAYS AMONG MEX. 
SOLDIERS FANTASTIC, WE PRAY TO THE 

STAR OF THE SEA, 
WE PRAY TO THE MOTHER OF GOO THAT 

WHITE SLAVES MAY BE FREE. 
ROSE-CROWNED LADY FROM HEAVEN. GIVE 

US THY GRACE, 

HELP US THE DESPERATE, DESPERATE BAT 
TLE TO FACE 
TILL THE LEER OF THE TRADER IS SEEN 

XEVERMORE IN THE LAND, 
TILL WE 'BRING EVERY MAID OF THE AGE 

TO ONE SHELTERING HAND. 
AH, THEY ARE PRICELESS, THE PALE AXD 

THE IVORY AND RED! 
BREATHLESS WE GAZE ON THE CURLS OF 

EACH GLORIOUS HEAD! 
ARM THEM WITH STRENGTH MEDIEVAL, 

THY MARVELOUS DOWER, 
BLAST XOW THEIR TEMPTERS. SHELTER 

THEIR STEPS WITH THY POWER. 

LEAVE NOT LIFE'S FAIREST TO PERISH 

STRANGERS TO THEE, 
LET XOT THE WEAKEST BE SHIPWRECKED, 

Oil, STAR OF THE SEA! 



THE PERILOUS ROAD. 

A POEM FOR SPIRITUALISTS. 

"HERMIT," THE YOUTH SAID, "TEACH MY 
HEART THE WAYS 

OF HEAVEN'S FREE DAYS. 

AND ARE THEIR PLEASURES VARIOUS, 
FRAGILE, FLEET 

WHERE BRIGHT SOULS MEET? 

FATHER IN GOD, FOR I HAVE FASTED LONG, 

TEACH A WILD SONG. 

TEACH ME, THE WHILE I KNEEL, A CURI 
OUS PRAYER 

TO RULE THE AIR. 



SHOW ME THE SECRET DOOR THAT OPENS 

WIDE 

WHERE CHARIOTS RIDE. 
CHARIOTS THAT COME TO WHIRL YOU TO 

THE SKY, 
WHEN EVE IS NIGH, 
CHARIOTS THAT BEAR YOU BACK TO TIME 

AND SPACE, 
AND THIS GRIM PLACE." 

"NAY," SAID THE PALSIED MAN, "i KEEP 

THE SPELL 

OF HEAVEN, OF HELL. 
NAY, THOUGH YOU KNEEL, GOOD YOUTH, 

I WILL NOT SHOW 
WHAT HERMITS KNOW. 

SELDOM I DARE TO OPEN WIDE MINE EYES, 
BY THAT PATH LIES 

TERROR, AND ROSE-BRIARS FIERCE WILL 

PIERCE AND SEAR, 
THIS OLD FRAME HERE. 
HE WHO WOULD SPEAK TO STRANGERS IN 

THE NIGHT 
GOING BY, IN WHITE: 
HE WHO WOULD SPEAK TO CHRIST IN 

FUNERAL ROOMS 
AND BY NEW TOMBS I 

WHO WOULD TOUCH THE HOT-WINGED, 
TALL IMMORTAL MEN, 

AND RETURN AGAIN! 

MUST SCORN HIS DAILY LIFE AND NATURAL 
FRIENDS, 

SUCH FRIENDSHIP ENDS. 

HE MUST LEAVE HIS SWEETHEART WEEP 
ING IN THE LANE, 

TO FORESTALL HER PAIN 

WHEN HE WAKES ONCE MORE, HER FIND 
ING HIM SO COLD 

TO THEIR LOVE OF OLD. 

A HEAVEN OF HEAVENS IS NOT ALWAYS 
WORTH 

A SURRENDERED EARTH. 

ONE BLAST OF THAT PERILOUS AIR DRIES 
UP THE HEART, 

YEA. IT SETS APART 

FROM ALL THINGS HERE THE SEER, HALF 
MAD, ALONE, 

LIKE A LEAF, A STONE." 

HEART OF GOD. 
A PRAYER IX THE JUNGLES OF HEAVEN. 

O GREAT HEART OF GOD, 

ONCE VAGUE AND LOST TO ME, 

WHY DO I THROB WITH YOUR THROB TO 
NIGHT, 

IN THIS LAND, ETERNITY? 

O LITTLE HEART OF GOD, 

SWEET INTRUDING STRANGER, 

YOU ARE LAUGHING IN MY HUMAN 
BREAST, 

A CHRIST-CHILD IN A MANGER. 

HEART, DEAR HEART OF GOD, 

BESIDE YOU NOW I KNEEL, 

STRONG HEART OF FAITH. O HEART NOT 
MINE, 

WHERE GOD HAS SET HIS SEAL. 

WILD THUNDERING HEART OF GOD 

OUT OF MY DOUBT I COME, 



AND MY FOOLISH FEET WITH PROPHETS' 

FEET, 
MARCH WITH THE PROPHETS' DRUM. 

IN MEMORY OF A CHILD. 

I 

THE ANGELS GUIDE HIM XOW, 
AND WATCH HIS CURLY HEAD. 
AND LEAD HIM IN THEIR GAMES, 
THE LITTLE BOY WE LED. 

II 

HE CANNOT COME TO HARM, 
HE KNOWS MORE THAN WE KNOW. 
HIS LIGHT IS BRIGHTER FAR 
THAN DAYTIME HERE BELOW. 

Ill 

HIS PATH LEADS OX AND ON, 
THROUGH PLEASAXT LAWNS AXD FLOWERS, 
HIS BROWN EYES OPEN WIDE 
AT GRASS MORE GREEN THAX O.URS. 

IV 

WITH PLAYMATES LIKE HIMSELF, 
THE SHINING BOY WILL SIX(;. 
EXPLORING WOXDROUS WOODS, 
SWEET WITH ETERNAL SPRING. 

V 

YET, HE IS LOST TO US, 
FAR IS HIS PATH OF GOLD, 
FAR DOES THE CITY SEEM, 
LONELY OUR HEARTS AND OLD. 

RHYMES OF THE DAY 
AND HOUR 

IN PRAISE OF SONGS THAT DIE. 
AFTER HAVING READ A GREAT DEAL OF 
GOOD CURRENT POETRY IX THE MAGAZINES 
AND NEWSPAPERS. 

AH, THEY ARE PASSING, PASSING BY, 

WONDERFUL SONGS, BUT BORX TO DIE! 

CRIES FROM THE INFINITE IUMAX SEAS, 

WAVES THRICE-WINGED WITH HARMONIES. 

HERE I STAXD ON A PIER IN THE FOAM 

SEEING THE SONGS TO THE BEACH (iO 
HOME 

DYING IN SAND WHILE THE TIDE FLOWS 
BACK, 

AS IT FLOWED OF OLD IN ITS FATED TRACK. 

OH HURRYING TIDE THAT WILL XOT HEAR 

YOUR OWN FOAM-CHILDREN DYING NEAR! 

IS THERE NO REFUGE-HOUSE OF SON<;. 

XO HOME, NO HAVEX WHERE SONGS BE 
LONG ? 

OH PRECIOUS HYMXS THAT COME AXD <;f>! 

YOU PERISH, AND I LOVE YOU SO! 



FORMULA FOR A UTOPIA. 
LET EVERY CHILD BE BORN OF PASSIONATE 

LOVE, 

CRADLED IX TENDERNESS AND SACRED JOY! 
GAY LITTLE MAIDENS WITH THE HEARTS 

OF NUNS 

LET GALAHAD BE BORN IX EVERY BOY. 



THE PERFECT MARRIAGE. 
I. 

I HATE THIS YOKE; FOB THE WORLD'S 

SAKE HERE PIT IT ONI 

KNOWING 'TWILL WEIGH AS MUCH ox 

YOU TILL LIFE IS GONE. 
KNOWING YOU LOVE YOUR FREEDOM DEAR, 

AS I LOVE MINK 
K\.>\\IXG THAT LOVE UNCHAINED HAS 

BEEN OUR LIFE'S GREAT WINE: 

OUR ONE GREAT WINE, (YKT SPENT TOO 

SOON, AND SERVING NONE; 
OF THE TWO CUPS FREE LOVE AT LAST THE 

DEADLY ONE.) 

II. 

WE GRANT OUR MEETINGS WILL BE TAME. 

NOT HONEY-SWEET, 
NO LONGER TURNING TO THE TRYST WITH 

FLYING FEET. 
WE KNOW THE TOIL THAT NOW MUST 

COME WILL SPOIL THE BLOOM 
AND TENDERNESS OF PASSION'S TOUCH. 

AND IN IT'S ROOM 
WILL COME TAME HABIT, DEADLY CALM, 

SORROW AND GLOOM. 
OH HOW THE BATTLE SCARS THE BEST WHO 

ENTER LIFE! 
EACH SOLDIER COMES OUT BLIND OR LAME 

FROM THE BLACK STRIFE. 
MAD OR DISEASED OR DAMNED OF SOUL 

THE BEST MAY COME 

IT MATTERS NOT HOW MERRILY NOW 

ROLLS THE DRUM, 
THE FIFE SHRILLS HIGH, THE HORN 

SINGS LOUD. TILL NO STEPS LAG 

AND ALL ADORE THAT SILKEN FLAME, 

DESIRE'S GREAT FLAG. 
in. 

WE WILL BUILD STRONG OUK TINY FORT, 

STRONG AS WE CAN- 
HOLDING ONE INNER ROOM BEYOND THE 

SWORD OF .MAN. 
LOVE IS TOO WIDE, IT SEEMS TODAY. TO 

HIDE IT THERE, 
IT SKKMS TO FLOOD THE FIELDS OK CORN. 

AND GILD THE AIR 

IT SEEMS TO I5RLATHK FKO.M EVERY BROOK, 

FROM FLOWERS TO SIGH 
IT SEEMS A CATARACT POUItKD DOWN 

FROM THE GREAT SKY; 
IT SEEMS A TENDERNESS SO VAST No I'.USH 

BUT SHOWS 



ITS HAUNTING AND TRANSFIGURING LlGIli 

WHEKK WONDER GLOWS. 
IT WRAPS US HS" A SII.KKN SNARE BY 

SHADOWY STREAMS, 
AND WII.DERIN<; SWKKT AND STUNG WITH 

JOY YOUR WIHTK SOUL SKKMS 
A FLA Ml--'. A FLAME, ro.MjUKRING DAY. 

CONQUERING NIGHT. 
BROUGHT FROM OUR GOD. A HOLY I HIM,. 

A MAD DELIGHT. 
BUT LOVE, WHEN ALL THINGS I'.KAT IT 

DOWN, LEAVES THE WIDE A IK, 
THE HEAVENS A UK GREY. AND MEN TURN 

WOLVES, LEAN WITH DESPAIR. 
AH, WHEN WE NEED LOVE MOST. AND 

WEEP, WHEN ALL IS DARK, 
LOVE IS A PINCH OF ASHES GREY, WITH 

ONE LIVE SPARK 
YET ON THE HOPE TO KEEP ALIVE 1 HAT 

TREASURE STRANGE 
HANGS ALL EARTH'S STRUGGLE. STRIFE 

AND SCORN. AND DESPERATE < HAN(,E. 



LOVE? * * WE WILL SCARCELY LOVE 

OUR BABES, FULL. MANY A TIME 
KNOWING THEIR SOULS AND OURS TOO 

WELL. AND ALL OUR GRIME 

AND THERE BESIDE OUR HOLY HEARTH 

WE'LL HIDE OUR EYES 
LEST WE SHOULD FLASH WHAT SEE Ms 

DISDAIN WITHOUT DISGUISE. 
YET THERE SHALL HE NO WAVERING THERE 

IX THAT DEEP TRIAL 

AND NO FALSE FIRE OR STRANGER HAND OR 

TRAITOR VILE 
WE'LL FIGHT THE GLOOM AND FIGHT THE 

WORLD WITH STRONG SWORD-PLAY, 
ENTRENCHED WITHIN OUR BLOCK-HOUSE 

SMALL, EVER AT BAY 

AS FELLOW-WARRIORS. UNDERPAID, WOUND 
ED AND WILD, 
TRUE TO THK1K MATTERED FLAG, THEIR 

FAITH STILL UXDKFII.KD! 



IV E WILL DO WELL. WE'LL SAVE THROUGH 
LIFE LOVE'S SPARK. I.OVE's <;K.M. 

WE'LL GUARD NO MAN-MADE HEAP < 

COINS OB DIADEM 

HUT CLASP WORN HANDS. AND \ OW GREAT 

VOWS TO GOD A HOVE, 
KEKPINi. I N</UE\< HKD THROUGH STORM 

AND FEAR. ONE SPARK OF I.OVI ' 



THE LEADEN EYED. 
LET NOT YOUNG SOULS BE SMOTHERED OUT 

BEFOKE 
THEY DO QUAINT DEEDS AND FULLY 

FLAUNT THEIR PRIDE. 

IT is THE WORLD'S ONE CRIME ITS BABES 

GROW DULL, 
ITS POOR ARE OX-LIKE, LIMP AND LEADEN 

EYED. 
NpT THAT THEY STARVE, BUT STARVE SO 

DREAMLESSLY, 
NOT THAT THEY SOW, BUT THAT THEY 

SELDOM REAP, 
NOT THAT THEY SERVE, BUT HAVE NO GODS 

TO SERVE, 
.NOT THAT THEY DIE, BUT THAT THEY DIE 

LIKE SHEEP. 

THE FOLLOWING VERSES WERE WRITTEN 
ON THE EVENING OF MARCH THE FIRST, 
NINETEEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN, AND 
PRINTED NEXT MORNING IN THE ILLINOIS 
STATE REGISTER. 

THEY CELEBRATE THE ARRIVAL OF THE 
NEWS THAT THE UNITED STATE SENATE 
HAD DECLARED THE ELECTION OF WILLIAM 
LORIMER GOOD AND VALID, BY A VOTE OF 
FORTY-SIX TO FORTY. 

TO THE UNITED STATES SENATE. 
REVELATION 16 1 VERSES 16 THROUGH 19. 
AND MUST THE SENATOR FROM ILLINOIS 
HE THIS SQUAT THING, WITH BLINKING, 

HALF-CLOSED EYES? 
THIS BRAZEN GUTTER IDOL, REARED TO 

POWER 

UPON A LEERING PYRAMID OF LIES? 

AND MUST THE SENATOR FROM ILLINOIS 

BE THE WORLD'S PROVERB OF SUCCESSFUL 

SHAME, 
DAZZLING ALL STATE HOUSE FLIES THAT 

STEAL AND STEAL, 
WHO, WHEN THE SAD STATE SPARES 

THEM, COUNT IT FAME? 
IF ONCE OR TWICE WITHIN HIS NEW WON 

HALL 
HIS VOTE HAD COUNTED FOR THE BROKEN 

MEN; 
IF IN HIS EARLY DAYS HE WROUGHT 

SOME GOOD 
WE MIGHT A GREAT SOUL'S SINS FORGIVE 

HIM THEN. 

BUT MUST THE SENATOR FROM ILLINOIS 
BE VINDICATED BY FAT KINGS OF GOLD? 
AND MUST HE BE BELAUDED BY THE 

SMIRCHED, 
THE SLEEK, UNCANNY CHIEFS JN LIES 

GROWN OLD? 
BE WARNED, OH, WANTON ONES, WHO 

SHIELDED HIM 

BLACK WRATH AWAITS. YOU ALL SHALL 

EAT THE DUST. 

YOU DARE NOT SAY! "TOMORROW WILL 

BRING PEACE; 
LET US MAKE MERRY, AND GO FORTH IN 

LUST." 

WHAT WILL YOU TRADING FROGS DO ON A 
DAY 



WHEN ARMAGEDDON THUNDERS THROUGH 

THE LAND; 
WHEN EACH SAD PATRIOT RISES, MAD 

WITH SHAME, 

HIS BALLOT OR HIS MUSKET IN HIS HAND? 
IN THE DISTRACTED STATES FROM WHICH 

YOU CAME 

THE DAY IS BIG WITH WAR HOPES FIERCE 

AND STRANGE; 
OUB IRON CHICAGOS AND OUR GROIY 

MINES 

RUMBLE WITH HATE AND LOVE AND SOL 
EMN CHANGE. 
TOO MANY WEARY MEN SHED HONEST 

TEARS, 
GROUND BY MACHINES THAT GIVE THE 

SENATE EASE. 
TOO MANY LITTLE BABES WITH BLEEDING 

HANDS 
HAVE HEAPED THE FRUITS OK EMPIRE ON 

YOUR KNEES. 
AND SWINE WITHIN THE SENATE IN THIS 

DAY, 

WHEN ALL THE SMOTHERING BY-STREETS 

WEEP AND WAIL; 
WHEN WISDOM BREAKS THE HEARTS OF 

HER BEST SONS; 
WHEN KINGLY MEN, VOTING FOB TRUTH, 

MAY FAIL: 
THESE ARE A PORTENT AND A CALL TO 

ARMS. 

OUR PROTEST TURNS INTO A BATTLE CRY: 
"OUR SHAME MUST END, OUB STATES BE 

FREE AND CLEAN J 
AND IN THIS WAR WE CHOOSE TO LIVE 

AND DIE." 

DREAMS IN THE SLUM. 

SOME MEN, NOT BLIND, STILL THINK AMID 

THE FILTH. 
SOME SCHOLARS SEE VAST CITIES LIKE 

THE SUN: 
BRIGHT HIVES OF POWER, OF JUSTICE AND 

OF LOVE, 
IN BRAINS LIKE THESE OUR ZION HAS- 

BEGUN. 
WHAT WILL YOU DO TO MAKE THEIR 

THOUGHT COME TRUE? 
OB WILL YOU TREAD THEIR PEARLS INTO 

THE EARTH? 
FRIENDS, WHEN SUCH VOICES RISE DESPITE 

THE TIME, 
WHAT ARE YOUR SHABBY, RICH MAN'S 

TEMPLES WORTH? 



THE EAGLE THAT IS FORGOTTEN. 

(JOHN P. ALTGELD. BORN DEC. 30, 1847; 

DIED MARCH 12, 1902.) 
SLEEP SOFTLY * * * EAGLE FORGOTTEN 

* * * UNDER THE STONE. 
TIME HAS ITS WAY WITH YOU THERE, AND 

THE CLAY HAS ITS OWN. 
"WE HAVE BURIED HIM NOW," THOUGHT 

YOUR FOES, AND IN SECRET REJOICED. 
THEY MADE A BRAVE SHOW OF THEIR 

MOURNING, THEIR HATRED UNVOICED. 



THEY HAD SNARLED AT YOU, BABKEO AT 

YOU, FOAMED AT YOU DAY AFTEE DAY, 

NOW YOU WEBB ENDED. THEY PRAISED 

YOU, * * * AND LAID YOU AWAY. 

THE OTHERS THAT MOUBNED YOU IN 

SILENCE AND TERROR AND TRUTH. 
THE WIDOW BEREFT OF HER CRUST, AND 

THE BOY WITHOUT YOUTH, 
THE MOCKED AND THE SCORNED AND THE 

WOUNDED, THE LAME AND THE POOR 
THAT SHOULD HAVE BEMEMBERED FOR 
EVER, * * * REMEMBER NO MORE. 
WHERE ARE THOSE LOVERS OF YOURS, ON 

WHAT NAME DO THEY CALL 
THE LOST, THAT IN ARMIES WEPT OVER 

YOUR FUNERAL* PALL? 
THEY CALL ON THE NAMES OF A HUNDRED 

HIGH- VALIANT ONES, 
A HUNDRED WHITE EAGLES HAVE RISEN 

THE SONS OF YOUR SONS, 
THE ZEAL IN THEIR WINGS IS A ZEAL THAT 

YOUR DREAMING BEGAN 
THE VALOR THAT WORE OUT YOUR SOUL IN 

THE SERVICE OF MAN. 
SLEEP SOFTLY, * * * EAGLE FORGOTTEN, 

* * * UNDER THE STONE, 
TIME HAS ITS WAY WITH YOU THERE 

AND THE CLAY HAS ITS OWN. 
SLEEP ON, O BRAVE HEARTED, O WISE MAN, 

THAT KINDLED THE FLAME 

TO LIVE IN MANKIND IS FAB MOBE THAN 

TO LIVE IN A NAME, 
TO LIVE IN MANKIND, FAR FAR MORE * * 

THAN TO LIVE IN A NAME. 



TO THOSE THAT WOULD MEND 
THESE TIMES. 

GO PLANT THE ARTS THAT WOO THE 

WEARIEST, 
BOLD ARTS THAT SIMPLE WORKMEN UN- 

DERSAND, 
THAT MAKE NO POOR MEN AND KEEP ALL 

MEN RICH, 

AND THRONE OUR LADY BEAUTY IN THE 
LAND! 



TO THOSE THAT WOULD HELP THE 
FALLEN. 

GO PLANT THE CRAFTS THAT GIVE A DEEP 
DELIGHT 

TO ALL WHO MAKE, TO ALL WHO USE 

AND SEE: 
NEW CRAFTS WHERE ROUGHEST MEN CAN 

HINT AT THE THOUGHT 
AND WRITE LIFE'S LYBIC IN A HAND SET 

FREE: 
THE DEATHLESS TOUCH OF AGES WORKED 

ANEW 

UPON THE DOOR OF EVERY TINIEST ROOM: 
THE JOY OF LIVING PAINTED ON THE 

WAIXS, 

AND DAZZLING FABRICS WROUGHT ON ART'S 

HOME-LOOM. 
DECKING THE PARKS: VAIR, VELVET, SILK 

AND GOLD: 



OLD PAGEANTS MARCHING THAT WERE 
LONG-TIME DEAD: 

INNOCENT GAMBOLS, HARP AND SONG 
AFOOT: 

TO PRAISE THE DAY WHEN ART AND FREE 
DOM WED! 



THE TRAP. 

SHE WAS TAUGHT DESIRE IN THE STREET 
NOT AT THE ANGEL'S FEET. 
BY THE GOOD NO WORD WAS SAID 
OF THE WORTH OF THE BRIDAL BED. 
THE SECRET WAS LEARNED FROM THE VILE 
NOT FROM HER MOTHER'S SMILE. 
HOME SPOKE NOT. AND THE GIRL 
WAS CAUGHT IN THE PUBLIC WHIRL, 
DO YOU SAY "SHE GAVE CONSENT: 
LIFE DRUNK, SHE WAS CONTENT 
WITH BEASTS THAT HER FIRE COULD 

PLEASE?" 

BUT SHE DID NOT CHOOSE DISEASE 
OF MIND AND NERVES AND BREATH. 
SHE WAS TRAPPED TO A SLOW, FOUL 

DEATH. 

THE DOOR WAS WATCHED SO WELL, 
THAT THE STEEP DARK STAIR TO HELL 
WAS THE ONLY ESCAPING WAY * * * 
"SHE GAVE CONSENT," YOU SAY? 
SOME THINK SHE WAS MEEK AND GOOD 
ONLY LOST IN THE WOOD 
OF YOUTH, AND DECEIVED IN MAN 
WHEN THE HUNGER OF SEX BEGAN 
THAT TIES THE HUSBAND AND WIFE 
TO THE END IN A STRONG FOND LIFE. 
HER CAPTOR, BY CHANCE WAS ONE 
OF THOSE WHOSE PASSION WAS DONK, 
A COLD FIERCE WORM OF THE SEA 
ENSLAVING FOR YOU AND ME. 
THE WAGES THE POOR MUST TAKE 
HAVE FORCED THEM TO SERVE THIS SNAKE. 
YEA, HALF-PAID GIRLS MUST GO 
FOR BREAD TO HIS PIT BELOW. 
WHAT HANGMAN SHALL WAIT HIS HOST 
OF BUTCHERS FROM COAST TO COAST, 
NEW YORK TO THE GOLDEN GATE 
THE MERGER OF DEATH AND FATE, 
LUST-KINGS WITH A CAREFUL PLAN 
CLEAN-CUT, AMERICAN? 
OH MOTHERS WHO FAILED TO TELL 
THE MAZES OF HEAVEN AND HELL, 
WHO FAILED TO ADVISE, IMPLORE 
YOUR DAUGHTER AT LOVE'S STRANGE DOOR 
WHAT WILL YOU DO THIS DAY? 
YOUR DEAR ONES ARE HIDDEN AWAY, 

AS GOOD AS CHAINED TO THE BED 
HID LIKE THE MAD, OR THE DEAD: 
THE GLORIES OF ENDLESS YEARS 
DROWNED IN THEIR HARLOT-TEARS : 
THE CHILDREN THEY HOPED TO BEAR 
GRANDCHILDREN STRONG AND FAIR 
THE LIFE FOR AGES TO BE 
CUT OFF LIKE A BLASTED TREK, 
MURDERED IN FILTH IN A DAY, 
SOMEHOW, BY THE MERCHANT (.AY! 

IN LIBERTY'S NAME WE CRY 

FOR THESE WOMEN ABOUT TO DIE. 



WHAT SHALL BE SAID OF A STATE 
WHERE TRAPS FOB THE WHITE BRIDES 

WAIT? 

OF SELLERS OF DRINK WHO PLAY 
THE GAME FOR THE EXTRA PAY? 
OF STATESMEN IN LEAGUE WITH ALL 
WHO HOPE FOR THE GIRL-CHILD'S FALL? 
OF BANKS WHERE HELL'S MONEY IS PAID 
AND PHARISEES ALL AFRAID 
OF PANDARS THAT HELP THEM SIN? 
WHEN WILL OUR WRATH BEGIN? 

TO REFORMERS IN DESPAIR. 
'TIS NOT TOO LATE TO BUILD OUR YOUNG 

LAND RIGHT, 
CLEANER THAN HOLLAND, COURTLIER THAN 

JAPAN, 
DEVOUT LIKE EARLY ROME, WITH HEARTHS 

LIKE HERS, 
HEARTHS THAT WILL RECREATE THE BREED 

CALLED MAN. 

POEMS ON THE FAR 
DISTANT FUTURE 

THE LEGISLATURE. 

OUT OF THE HEART OF AGES COMES THE 
LAW, 

THE SONS WILL HONOR WHAT THE SIRES 
HAVE LEFT: 

THEIR PROVERB IS THE FATHERS' CARE 
LESS WIT, 

THEIR HONESTY THE FATHERS' CARELESS 
THEFT. 

WHAT IS OUR FREEDOM BUT A CHANCE 
TO GIVE 

POSTERITY A NOBLE HOUSE FOR PLAY? 

AND WILL OUR CHECKED AND BALANCED 
LAWS BE CHAINS 

TO HANG OUR CHILDREN IN AN EVIL DAY? 

WE SAY WE WANT THE NATION TO BE 
FREE, 

YET THERE'S A CLANK IN EVERY LAW 

WE WRITE. 

WHY SHOULD WE WORK AT SUCH ILL- 
OMENED STEEL? 
TODAY THE FORGE IS LOUD, THE METAL 

WHITE. 
TODAY MAD BLOWS COME THICK AND FAST. 

THE STEEL 
YIELDS WELL, THAT SOON WILL COOL FOR- 

EVERMORE. 
WHAT HAVE OUR WILD BLOWS WROUGHT? 

WHAT GRACELESS MOULD 
WHERE MEN WILL POUR THEIR BLOOD 

FOREVERMORE? 

THE PILGRIMS FROM ASIA. 

(IN THE DISTANT FUTURE.) 
I HAVE WATCHED -MULTITUDES OF SCHOL 
ARS COME 

TO HAUNT YOUR FOOT-STEPS, LINCOLN, IN 

OUR TOWN; 
EACH PILGRIM PACING FROM THE DAYS TO 

BE, 

CLAD IN A GLITTERING STRANGE-RUSTLING 
GOWN. 



l'POX THEIR FLAGS AM) SASHES. CLOAKS 

AND COATS 
NEW ASIA'S SYMBOLS, RICH EMBROIDERED 

THINGS; 
(STRONG MEN, SET FREE FROM PRIDES 

THAT LEAVE US PLAIN*, 
BROCADED MORE THAN BABYLONIAN 

KINGS : ) 
THEIR FACES TOUCHED WITH CULTURES 

NOW UNKNOWN, 
THEIR EYES ALIGHT WITH WISDOMS WE 

DESIRE, 
DOING LONG HONORS TO THE AUSTERE 

DEAD, 
WITH BANNER, PANTOMIME AND SONG 

AND FIRE. 

THOSE WORTHIER DAYS SHALL HAIL THEM 
FREEDOM'S SEERS: 

SELF-MASTERING CHIEFS WITH GENIUS 
IN CONTROL. 

AND YET, THAT MARVELLOUS WORLD SHALL 
TURN TO THIS, 

TRACING SWEET FREEDOM BACK TO LIN 
COLN'S SOUL. 

WE CANNOT CONQUER TIME. 
WE CANNOT CONQUER TIME. SIT DOWN, 

BREATHE SLOW, 
AND MUSE A LITTLE, SINCE GREAT TIME 

IS KING. 
THE MOTH AND RUST SHALL DO THEIR 

DESTINED WORK 

UPON US, THOUGH WE POLISH EVERY 
THING. 
AND ALL OUR QUAINT ATTEMPTS TO BEAT 

THE CLOCK 
TO TREAD TIME DOWN TO DEATH WITH 

HURRYING FEET, 
SHALL SLOWLY END. WE WILL REAR HIGH 

HIS FANE, 
AND COUNT HIS EVERLASTING BONDAGE 

MEET. 
THE MOTH, THE RUST, THE IVY AND THE 

BAIN, 
THE HAIL AND SNOW EVEN TODAY WEAR 

DOWN 
EACH TOWER THAT SPEAKS OF NEWNESS 

ALL TOO WELL, 

EACH POMPOUS PALACE WITH ITS GLITTER 
ING CROWN. 
THE MOTH, THE RUST, THE IVY AND THE 

RAIN, 
THE HAIL AND SXOW AM) WIND. WILL, AT 

THE LAST, 
ENTER THE INNER HEART OF THIS OUR 

RACE, 
UNTIL WE LOVE NO FUTURE LIKE THE 

PAST. 

FINAL POEMS OF THE 
ROAD 

LAZARUS AND DIVES. 

WRITTEN FOR THAT RARE CREATURE, A 
PREOCCUPIED HOST. 

i AM LAZARUS, POOR THEY SAY, 

WAYSIDE DOGS ARE MINE FOR FRIENDS, 
OX OUR SORES THE RAINS DESCENDS, 
SCORN IS OURS THROUGHOUT THE DAY. 



T AM LA/ARUS AT YOTR GATE. 

BREAD IS Ml.NF, THE HITS THAT 1AM. 

FROM YOUR AMPLE TABLK. All 

CHANCE HAS SCATTERED FROM YOUR 

PLATE. 

WELL CONTENT, I TAKE MY SHARK. 
'TIS A SORT OF TACIT RKJlI r. 
NO MAN FOR MY CRUMB WILL FIGHT, 
NO MAN DRIVES ME FROM THE STAIR. 
DIVES, OF THE NOBLE HEART, 
BY MISGIVING WORN AWAY! 
WHETHER PLEASURES GO OR STAY 
HOW YOU FUME AND BROOD AND START! 
LAZARUS YOU NEVER SEE, 
ALL THE LOAF OF LIFE YOU OWN. 
MADE SO GOOD FOR YOU ALONE. 
YET THIS CRUMB CO.MFS DOWN TO ME. 

A PRAYER TO ALL THE DEAD AMONG 

MINE OWN PEOPLE. 
ARE THESE YOUR PRESENCES. MY CLAN 

FROM HEAVEN? 
ARE THESE YOUR HANDS UPON MY 

WOUNDED SOUL? 
MINE OWN, MINE OWN, BLOOD OF MY 

BLOOD BE WITH ME, 
FLY BY MY PATH TILL YOU HAVE MADE 

ME WHOLE! 



ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE. 
ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE 
WHAT W T ILD OATS DID YOU SOW 
WHEY YOU LEFT YOUR FATHER'S HOUSE 
WITH YOUR CHEEKS AGLOW? 
EYES SO STRAINED AND EAGER 
TO SEE WHAT YOU MIGHT SEE? 
WERE YOU THIEF OR WERE YOU FOOL 
OR MOST NOBLY FREE? 



WERE THE TRAMP-DAYS KMiillTM 

TRUE SoWIN(, ol WILD SEED? 

DID YOU DARE TO MAKE THE SONGS 

VANQUISHED WORKMEN NEED? 

DID YOU WASTE MUCH MONEY 

TO DECK \ I FPKK's I I AST? 

LOVE THE TRUTH. DEFY THE CROWD. 

SCANDALIZE THE PRIEST? 

ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE 

WHAT WILD OATS DID Yor SOW'.' 

STUPIDS FIND THE NOWHERE-ROAD 

DUSTY i.RIM AND SLOW. 

ERE THEIB SOWING'S ENDED 

THEY TURN THEM ON THEIR TRACK, 

LOOK AT THE CATIFK CRAVEN WK.IUi'fe. 

R EPE N T A X T, H U R R Y I X G HACK ! 

GROWN ASHAMED OF NOWHERE 

OF RA(.S ENDURED FOR YEARS, 

LUST FOR VELVET IN THEIR HI ARTS,. 

PIERCED WITH MAMMoN's SPEAKS. 

ALL BUT A FEW FANATICS 

GIVE UP THEIR DARLING GOAL, 

SEEK To HE AS OTHERS ARE, 

-it i :nr\ i UK SOUK. 

REA PINGS NOW CON I Uo NT "1 i I K M . 

GLUT THEM, OR DESTROY. 

CURIOUS SEEDS. GRAIN OR WEEDS 

SOWN* WITH AWFUL JOY. 

HURRIED IS THEIR HARVEST, 

THEY MAKE SOFT PEACE WITH MEN.. 

PILGRIMS PASS. THEY CARE NOT, 

WILL NOT TRAMP AGAIN. 

OH NOWHERE, GOLDEN NOWHERE! 

SAGES AND FOOLS GO ON 

TO YOUR CHAOTIC OCEAN, 

TO YOUR TREMENDOUS DAWN. 

FAR IN YOUR FAIR DREAM-HAVEN. 

IS NOTHING OR IS ALL * * * 

THEY PRESS ON, SINGING, SOWINC 

WILD DEEDS WITHOUT RECALL! 






MR. LINDSAY OFFERS TUE FOLLOWING 
SERMONS, TO BE PREACHED ON SHORT 
NOTICE, AND WITHOUT A COLLECTION, IN 
ANY CHAPEL THAT WILL OPEN ITS DOORS 
AS HE PASSES BY: (1) THE GOSPEL OF 
THE HEARTH. (2) THE GOSPEL OF VOL 
UNTARY POVERTY. (3) THE HOLINESS <>F 
BEAUTY.